From the Songs of the Greenwood
by Soledad
Summary: New song added. My grasp on English poetry is still somewhat awkward. Enjoy anyway. :) Formatting corrected, thanks to Wild Iris.
1. Aftermath

From the Songs of the Greenwood  


Author's note:  
This is the death song of one of Mirkwood's Avarin archers, after the Battle Under Trees, at the end of the Ring War. This awkward poem was inspired by a much better one written by Attila József, one of the greatest poets of 20th century Hungarian literature. The use of tenses - or moreso the lack of that - is intentional. I tried to bring over the atmosphere of the original poem, and since Hungarian has only three tenses (past, present and future), I felt the need to use some of the language tools of my mother tongue. 

The original poem had nothing to do with war or battles, by the way. It simply described a raspberry bush rocking some waste paper in its twigs in dusk.

AFTERMATH  
by Soledad  


The trees murmur a song long forgotten,  
warm and gentle is the dance of the branches.  
Soft evening lights shimmer like smooth pearls  
through the densely-woven veil of leaves.  


The damp mountains gleam in the trembling light.  
My song is fading over the gentle hills.  
To what fields, now, my stumbling feet shall take me?  
Where might my broken limbs now heal?  


Hard and faithfully I fought the good fight,  
like angry bees my arrows had flown,  
humming with eager wrath - now they are fallen.  
Why feel so weary? Had my path been lost ?  


The fight is fought. My heart in peace.  
Now I go and rest in the dark.  
Like thin blades of grass my fingers tremble.  
My heart trembles like the newborn stars.  
  


My sincerest thanks go to Finch for her help and encouragement. If this is any good, that is because of her. All the weird parts are my doing.


	2. Narbeleth

From the Songs of the Greenwood

  

    
    
    **Narbeleth**
    A cool golden wind is flaring,
    the wandering people are settling
    down for the winter.
    The sleepy mice are nibbling,
    the fallen walnuts are rolling
    around the pantry-corner.
    All is clad now in pure gold,
    a few last leaves the trees still hold,
    clutching the branches tightly.
    

  


This is an autumn song, inspired by a somewhat different poem called "October" by the 20th century Hungarian poet Miklós Radnóti. I felt its mood matching Narbeleth, the fading season of the Elves.

My sincerest thanks go to the members of the Edhellond group for their help and encouragement. If this is any good, that is because of them. All the weird parts are my doing.


	3. The Memory of Trees 1

**_From the Songs of the Greenwood_**

**__**

**THE MEMORY OF TREES 1**

**by Soledad**

**(a song born in the Second Age, after the great forests of Eriador had been destroyed by Sauron)**

****

* * *

The names of those

with hearts of stone and steel;

the names of those

who murder the trees

the names of those

who debase the birds

may blacken beyond remembrance

upon the closed lips of Time.

* * *

The names of those

who silence the songs;

the names of those

who soil the ponds

the names of those

with hearts of stone and thorn

may blacken beyond remembrance

upon the forbidding lips of Time.

* * *

(Inspired by a rhymeless prose poem of the Hungarian poet Károly Bari. No direct connection in topic, though. My heartfelt thanks the Wild Iris for her suggestions; all remaining mistakes are the direct result of me not listening to her.)


	4. The Memory of Trees 2

**_From the Songs of the Greenwood_**

**THE MEMORY OF TREES 2**

**by Soledad**

**(another song born in the Second Age, after the great forests of Eriador had been destroyed by Sauron)**

* * *

I carry in my heart

the memory of trees;

I shall sing the songs

they shared with the winds;

like a wound its pain

they songs I shall keep

and comfort my folk

that mourns them in tears.

* * *

The green sea of leaves

will rock me no more;

their whispers, like breeze,

are silenced from now;

no tree-talk will greet me

early in the morn;

and the song of trees

in my heart alone

will ever be borne.

* * *

(The sometimes strange rhythm is due to the fact that these pieces are actually meant to be sung. Hungarian has a very different rhythmic. Again, heartfelt thanks to the Wild Iris for her comments and apologies for not always listening to her. g)


End file.
